king had doffed his gown, and stood erect in the tight tunic, which
gave in full perfection the splendid proportions of a frame
unsurpassed in activity and strength. Before him, on the long table,
lay two or three open letters, beside the dagger with which Edward had
cut the silk that bound them. Around him gravely sat Lord Rivers,
Anthony Woodville, Lord St. John, Raoul de Fulke, the young and
valiant D'Eyncourt, and many other of the principal lords. Hastings
saw at once that something of pith and moment had occurred; and by the
fire in the king's eye, the dilation of his nostril, the cheerful and
almost joyous pride of his mien and brow, the experienced courtier
read the signs of WAR.

"Welcome, brave Hastings," said Edward, in a voice wholly changed from
its wonted soft affectation,--loud, clear, and thrilling as it went
through the marrow and heart of all who heard its stirring and trumpet
accent,--"welcome now to the field as ever to the banquet! We have
news from the North that bids us brace on the burgonet and buckle-to
the brand,--a revolt that requires a king's arm to quell. In
Yorkshire fifteen thousand men are in arms, under a leader they call
Robin of Redesdale,--the pretext, a thrave of corn demanded by the
Hospital of St. Leonard's, the true design that of treason to our
realm. At the same time, we hear from our brother of Gloucester, now
on the Border, that the Scotch have lifted the Lancaster Rose. There
is peril if these two armies meet. No time to lose,--they are
saddling our war-steeds; we hasten to the van of our royal force. We
shall have warm work, my lords. But who is worthy of a throne that
cannot guard it?"

"This is sad tidings indeed, sire," said Hastings, gravely.